


Uninvited

by sudapigrafool



Category: 30 Seconds to Mars
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:29:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sudapigrafool/pseuds/sudapigrafool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Authorship: Polydeuces<br/>A/N: letocest; thoroughly obsessive Jared; another variation on the theme of Tomo joining the band.<br/>Summary: Shannon gets home a little late. With a guest. Actually, he has two guests, one invited, and one…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uninvited

I hear the sound of his front door opening along with the muffled jangling of his keys and I lift my head off the pillow, rolling my eyes towards the clock on the dresser. One forty in the morning. Why so late?

He’s talking to someone.

"No! No, it’s fine…" A casual laugh. I miss the part that follows when his voice drops. A light snaps on in the hall, and two pairs of heavy feet come thumping up the stairs. Oh, shit. Maybe this was a bad idea. I hear their shuffling stride coming closer, two sets of boot soles whispering over his carpeted floor. Cautiously, I draw myself up to a sitting position, and resist the urge to bolt for the bathroom. His bed seems to swallow me up in its largeness. Or, perhaps, at the moment I’m just feeling very vulnerable and small. Who is that with him?

"It’s this, or the couch," I can hear the implicit apology, and the sheepish smile. He must be pointing out the guest room.

"No, this is fine."

That voice sounds familiar, where have I...

"There’s a lot of junk in here. Just move it where ever you want."

"Hey, it’s okay." I know that voice. There’s laughter in the guy’s tone, and he’s trying to be reassuring. "You should see my place. I’ll feel right at home."

"Alright." Shannon sounds relieved. "Ah, bathroom’s at the end of the hall. That door there? That’s my room, if you need anything, um, don’t be afraid to wake me."

Oh, Jesus, Shannon.

"You want something to sleep in? I’ll get you something."

No! Don’t bring him in here!

"Uh-uh, no. It’ll be fine. Really."

Fuck. Now I recognize him. It’s that guitarist we auditioned a few days ago. I thought he was on his way back to Detroit. I continue to listen, as Shannon responds to his polite refusal with a prolonged silence, and I’m trying to picture them looking at each other. And Shannon, wondering what exactly Tomo--yeah, that’s his name--is insinuating. What it is, precisely, that he’s trying to say? That he prefers to sleep in the buff?

_He’s history._

I know that Matt really liked his playing, and that he already knows all our songs; that he’s been a fan for a while, and he and Shannon know each other from some place or other. But this is not happening.

"Well, alright. I’ll just let you get some sleep then."

Good choice, Shan. Now, at least, you won’t have to help me bury the body.

" ’Night, man. And thanks."

"No problem, Tomo."

The soft sound of a door closing reaches my ear. I see a shadow passing through the streak of light that seeps in under the doorway to Shannon’s bedroom, two feet standing on the threshold, and I duck back down into the covers up to my chin. His hand connects with the knob, which rattles mutely. The light in the hall goes out.

He ignores the switch on the wall and the lamp on the bedside table, knowing his own environment by heart. I’m certain he is unaware of me until his eyes settle on the unmade bed, when he stops abruptly and stares into the darkness.

"Hey, Shan," I whisper, shifting onto my side and rustling the sheets.

He only hesitates for an instant. "Hey, babe." Still dressed, he crawls across the bed, hands searching for my face. When he finds me, he places a long, wet kiss on my lips.

"What are you doing here?" It’s a non-judgmental question. His hand smoothes gently over my hair.

"What is _he_ doing here?" I can’t quite keep the querulous accusation from creeping into my tone.

"Sleeping," Shannon answers calmly.

Not if I can help it.

I exhale slowly. Not quite a sigh, which would be too theatrical, but I know that as my warm breath passes between us, Shannon will be thinking about it, and my silence. He’ll be adding it up, together with the detail of my unexpected presence. Questioningly, his hand fumbles under the blanket and encounters my naked chest. I feel his mouth seeking mine again, and I offer him my cheek instead. Which is not at all what he was looking for, but he kisses it lightly and draws back. Gauging my mood. Lonesome, hurt, angry? All of the above?

Stealthy fingertips begin making a tactical assessment of the situation, sliding lower and lower across the skin of my abdomen. They tickle, and I fight the tingle of urgency they leave in their wake. Yes, I am naked all the way down. I was waiting for you. Curious why you were so late; wondering what was keeping you. Eventually his palm collides with the answer to his last, most pertinent question. No, the issue of the man in the next room has not altered my basic intentions, or spoiled your chances. In fact, he’s improved them.

Shannon’s always known what I like, but I know what he likes even better.

You’re in luck tonight, bro, bastard though you may be. Because whatever you were planning, I don’t think it involved letting that, uh… "child" get the upper hand with you. A least, not in the same way you will allow me. That’s my hypothesis. And it is my intention to act in accordance with my theory. So sue me if I’m wrong, and you still care when I’m through with you.

I tug at the hem of his shirt, asking him to lose it, and in an instant he’s pulled it off over his head. It’s not difficult to get him lying on his back while my arched palms make lazy circles around his stiffening nipples. My head falls over his chest and my hair teases across his neck and collarbone, letting him wait for the caress of my lips that I know he’s anticipating. When finally they brush over those hardened, startled nubs, he gives a gratifying little gasp. My tongue massages a wide, wet path from one dark island to the other. When I tip my eyes up to watch his face, I see his head has fallen back on the pillow. His eyelids are lowered and his lips are parted, panting out shallow little puffs of breath.

"Don’t you want to touch me?" I whisper. I don’t need to ask him twice.

Before his hands can manage to reach all the most coveted and favored places, his tongue is plundering deep into my mouth and possessing me in a way I have not known for many months now. While I am pondering the reason for this change, he rolls with me, and the bite of his belt buckle digs into my hip. The bed groans beneath us. My bare thighs close around his, still encased in coarse denim. His hands are trapped between the mattress and my butt, squeezing greedily, when suddenly my toes scrape up against smooth leather.

"You could at least take your boots off."

It’s sort of amazing how quickly a properly motivated male can undress. The first boot sails over the side of the bed and lands with a satisfying thud, which I am sure can be heard plainly in the next room. I wait impatiently for its mate to follow while helpfully slipping Shannon’s belt out of its clasp and working down his zipper. The hard length of cock that slides into my hand is impressive and hot, and it greets me like a sly old flame. Before he’s the rest of the way out of his jeans, I’ve snuck in a few licks. Just his taste is enough to make me anxious and rigid. The air around us grows heavy with the smell of sex. He growls my name and shivers.

"Say it again. Say my name."

"Jared…"

The other boot hits the floor rapidly followed by a careless toss of tangled fabric, and he lunges to be between my legs, knocking me back against the headboard. I’m not quite ready to surrender my prerogative just yet however, so instead I lock legs with him, like scissors. Making him wonder, making him want it even more, making him fight me for dominance. The scruff of his pubic hair grinds against me. I can feel the warm slick beginning to spread over our bellies.

I kiss him. I pull on his lips with my teeth and poke my tongue into his mouth, at first with rapid flourishes, thrusting and withdrawing, until finally he forces my head back. His mouth latches on to mine while he roughly inserts his own thorough and decisive organ; curling and twisting it over every inch of my sensitive oral surfaces. He is a master at this, so I let him master me.

Our hands are wandering and our hips can’t stay still. Neither will the bed, I am thinking, once he really gets going. My fingers creep along the valley that is the small of his back, and extend towards the dark crevice below. If only I can stretch out my hands low enough to sneak into that sweaty crease, to spread him open, I know my first grazing touch in there always drives him crazy.

He’s had the same thought, though. It’s my weakness as well as his, something we share as brothers. Since he has me on my back, I yield to him first, raising one knee until my leg wraps around his waist. I want to arch up against him; already I am throbbing and wet. He moans deliciously as his palm slides down over the curve of my ass, and his fingers brush delicately at my entrance. I have to tear my mouth away from his briefly to clench my teeth shut tight on a very unsubtle cry.

"Do you want to fuck me?" I gasp between harsh breaths. As if I have to ask.

He leaves me long enough to rummage through his bed table drawer. Returning, his touch is soothing and slippery.

"O-O-Oh, Shannon…"

Originally, my intention had been to draw out an ordinary night of lovemaking for as long and as loud as possible, but now I can see I did not factor in sufficiently for the aphrodisiac effect of having a potential rival lying awake in the bed next door. I’m not going to last much longer at this rate. Shannon is rolling my balls between slick fingers and it’s killing me. And afterwards, well, we’ll have to wait and see if he leaves me fit for much of anything more than sleep afterwards.

His fingers probe into me expertly. Gah. I spread my thighs wide for him, pulling up my knees and grunting with pleasure.

"Beautiful," he mumbles, hunching over me and sliding his tongue across the weeping tip of my cock. I lurch against his hand, feeling that happy jolt and tingle deep inside. He smiles and licks his lips, opening his mouth to swallow down more of me, sucking deeply to draw my essence into his throat.

"Ah! Don’t," I beg him. "I want to come with you inside me." Together. Please.

He releases me slowly, and looks up into my eyes. His face rises towards mine, arms resting on either side of me.

"I want that, too," he murmurs. His steady gaze glitters.

More than ready for him, I reach down to help him find his way. Not that he needs my help. He knows my body as well as he knows his own, it's just something about the intimacy between us.

In spite of how long it’s been, I thrill to receive him; there is no pain. His first thrust and the rush from it fills me until I’m dizzy with lusting for him. He knows exactly what I need and how to reach me from the inside. So, why do I always resist letting him in this way? Why do I always need to be the one in control? Even now.

His face hovers just above me, eyes drifting closed, innocent as an angel. I watch his naked, unguarded expression as his lips form a soft "o-oh," making his carnal prayer. He begins to shiver again. My hands travel down his spine towards our flexing hips. I am aching hard; the straining muscles of his abdomen rub me roughly. Rising and falling, he rocks me harder and harder. Each inward stroke drives me closer towards a shattering I know too well.

We’ve been here together before. It is a moment of power and excess I can never describe adequately. When it comes, when he breaks over me like an ocean, I hear myself making wild, wanton sounds rising from some deep, inner distance. I am pure, raw sex being consumed from within by Shannon's need for me. There are no limits to the pleasure that can be plumbed from the bucking of my hips. Heat and wetness seethes and pours out of me. I'm crying, and flailing like a drowning man sinking in Shannon’s decadent sea. Above me, his thrusts are still churning. The sensation seizes at me like an undertow. I can feel the wracking and tossing of his orgasm as it follows mine; the undulation of wet waves keeps slapping us together violently. I am clutching him so tightly I must be bruising him, and then I realize the other sound I hear is his voice calling my name again. A gasping plea, like sobbing. His movements are growing quieter now. Our chests heave for breath against one another’s, and our hearts thunder in unison. Deep within, I feel his last, lingering pulses as he throbs inside of me, emptying himself. And then he collapses over me weakly, expended, pressing the arch of his brow into the perfectly matched contour of my neck.

In my head, I keep imagining I hear the sound of rain.

\-------

I wake up to the smell of brewing coffee, but Shannon, the coffee drinker in the family, is still gently snoring in the bed next to me. Our guest must be up already.

Thinking more clearly now, about Tomo, I find myself feeling a little silly concerning the antics of the night before. Not the part between Shannon and me, which is always too intense, but… Okay. Here comes the acid test. I don’t see how Tomo could possibly have missed the sound of all that aerobic activity coming from Shannon’s room last night. However, just in case he didn’t catch enough of the _specific details_ …

I slip out of bed and into my pants, and I creep downstairs. If he doesn’t bolt for his Midwestern home the minute he sees me and puts two and two together, maybe I’ll reconsider his appointed destiny with the hereafter.

He’s standing in the kitchen reading a day-old newspaper. I’m nervous all of a sudden. It’s not that I’m afraid he’ll go out of here announcing to the whole world that Shannon is, in fact, my live-in lover. People say that already, and with far less information or reason to think so than the ones we’ve given Tomo last night. It’s just that… I don’t know what it is, actually. Except that for me, the issue of Shannon is very serious.

"Hey, Tomo," I say, figuring I’ll catch him by surprise.

"Hey, Jared." He never even looks up. "Want some coffee?"

Never. Even. Looks. Up. What the fuck?

Finally, he glances over at me and, staring into his unperturbed, slightly amused expression, I can feel color creeping into my face. That never happens. What is that? Apparently, the only person who can’t quite figure out what’s going on here is me.

"Did I pass?" His eyes hide a devilish gleam.

"Pass what?"

"Your little test?"

Whoa. Does he think that was some sort of act we put on for him? Like a practical joke? I’m confused.

"Tomo," Shannon’s gritty morning voice rumbles behind me. I turn around, feeling somewhat speechless, and he catches me on the mouth with a thorough and unambiguous good morning kiss.

He nods at the coffee. "That smells great," and Tomo reaches for the pot to pour him a cup.

"I really have to run if I’m going to make my flight," Tomo is saying as he places the steaming mug in Shannon’s hands. "I was just about to leave a note since you two weren’t awake yet."

"Yeah, don’t let us hold you up. Uh, you got the job, by the way. Right?" Shannon turns to me, like consulting my opinion is an afterthought. Hello. When he looks more closely at my face, he must read stupefaction there, because he adds, "S’okay, Jared. About last night? He knows. Matt told him a long time ago."

Matt? Told Tomo? About you and me? My Matthew?

"Well thanks, guys. It’s gonna be great." Tomo’s car keys are in his hand and he’s heading for the front door with Shannon ambling along behind him. I find my feet moving in the same direction, too.

Then, I’m standing by the open door, waving as Tomo backs his rental out of Shannon’s driveway. Maybe I’m dreaming? It kind of feels like a dream.

"Well," sighs my brother contentedly, "this’ll make Matt very happy."

"Matt?" To myself, I think I’m starting to sound a bit shrill.

"Yeah. He didn’t want anything to influence your decision, you know, one way or the other. But it’s been pretty hard on them ever since they got together, being so far apart all the time. He’ll be really happy you decided to have Tomo in the band."

That strange sensation of being in an altered state gives way to the feeling that I am losing my balance literally. There’s a funny buzzing noise in my ears.

"Tomo is Matthew’s fuck?"

"Well, I wouldn’t put it _exactly_ that way to his face." Shannon stops rambling at this point long enough to have another good look at me.

"Fuck!" is all I can manage.

"Why?" Shannon asks, seeming a trifle worried.

"I thought he was…" I stop, and start again. "I thought you two…"

Shannon’s eyes brighten slowly with a wicked, self-satisfied shine. "Yeah, I know," he grins. "You were great last night, by the way."

Oh, I am gonna kill him. And Matt, too, as soon as he gets back from Boston. And then, I’m gonna make Tomo help me bury the bodies.

\--end--


End file.
